Paging Doctor Cullen
by Rosette-Cullen
Summary: A favorite doctor and a favourite patient find themselves completing check-ups on a regular basis. CarlislexMe, just 'cause I can. Graphic, steamy, lemon, rated M for a very good reason.


**A/N: Eh hem. This story is just for me, for myself, written for my undeniable doctor and Carlisle fetish. The PoV is vague, um, because, it's me but it was weird writing my own name in and I was like f*ck it! So you can pretend that you went to the doctors, but I wanted to share my Christmas gift to me with everyone. I sound so selfish don't I?**

**Disclaimer: I think this is the first one I've ever done: I do not own Twilight, but Carlisle owns me fully, everyone else can have Edward Cullen, I just want Carlisle, Edward's black leather couch, and the backseat of the Mercedes. (Sorry to whoever gets the front.)**

* * *

The nervousness I felt was completely unfounded. Sure, doctors visits always made my nerves and muscles tense beyond repair, but I was the one who had spoken with the receptionist, scheduled my appointment and calmly said 'have a nice day' before hanging up and hyperventilating.

The week since that time had been hellish; a nightmare that I couldn't speed up or escape. The worst part was, I had been anticipating this the entire time.

And yet here I sat, on a cold leather examination table with a paper gown on that was completely drafty seeing as the back was M.I.A. My legs were rocking back and forth with a nervous rhythm, and my fingers were digging into my palms.

The prospect of being in this room for any reason was beyond my comfort zone, and the reason I came here was blasphemous to my _comfort_. My conscience had been screaming and lashing at me all week. Just call and cancel, it'll take five minutes.

But I didn't call, nor did I cancel. Almost as if to tease my subconscious I picked up the call from the hospital instead of letting it go to voicemail and cheerily confirmed that my appointment was still set in stone.

So, here I sat, in a hospital room, a room that was just _reeking _of antiseptic and sick people. If I ever became a doctor I'd have an air freshener in every outlet. The smell put me off more than anything.

My heart sped up as I finally looked around me. Needles were in a secure biohazard container, which made my stomach flip. Funny considering I had become more-or-less a pin cushion in my teenage years. Tongue depressors were in a glass bottle next to the sink, and an image of me vomiting everywhere stuck in my mind.

I groaned and put my head in my hands. No. I couldn't embarrass myself today, that wasn't even a possibility.

Instead of looking around and finding a million things that my mind could contort into a torture weapon, I stared directly at the white cabinets and focused on them, making invisible shapes with my eyes.

The clock struck with even chords each time, and I tried to regulate my breathing to match it. It was difficult to keep my focus like this, but I managed to do it. I smiled to myself, no longer focused on the white cabinets.

Instead I looked at the doctor tools with a new fascination. What if the tongue depressors weren't for my mouth? What if their objective was lower and out of sight from most of the general public?

The stethoscope hanging limply in the corner of the room—that was more for show considering all the doctors wore them proudly around their necks—made my back straighten immediately. I could imagine the cold metal touching my chest and the sensation that would run through my body at the feeling. It would be so much better than an ice cube or anything comparative in stature.

My face was hot by the time I pulled myself back together. I sighed loudly, touching my fingertips to my burning cheek.

How many times had I thought about this? Those same scenarios since I was old enough to realize the physical aspects of a simple doctors visit. Well, it wasn't as defined as it was previously to meeting the object of my medical desire.

I was never one for blondes, no, not by a long shot; not besides a couple friends who were natural and firmly rooted in place on opinions and could hold a decent conversation. I'd never even had an idea that I'd be attracted to a blonde. Well, that was before I ever saw _him_.

It started when my mom came in, complaining that there was something wrong with her back. I needed to accompany her in case she cramped up in the car and needed someone to do emergency driving. That was a bonus, considering I didn't have my license.

The shock of the hospital fell over me as we drove insight of the large brick building, and I could hardly breathe. Maybe I'd be the one who needed a room and respirator.

I was in the waiting room, waiting around for her to be done, and that was when I heard his voice.

It was soft and smooth, honey and velvet wrapped into a delicious harmony that sent my ears into a pleasured dream that could only be described as the purest bliss, the highest nirvana. And so I listened to his gentle words, the low tones of his succulent voice, lulling me towards him, just to hear him _speak_.

But then, with the curiosity of his voice, came the curiosity of who he was. When I looked up his long, lean legs my heart spluttered frantically. I could see the calf muscles straining against the black slacks he wore, hinting at the incredible build underneath.

At that point my legs were crossed with an unbearable need to spread them wide. My face went hot when I realized that, both in my memory and real life.

His torso was strong and thick, the muscles straining through the white shirt and the lab coat he wore didn't do anything to dull or bulk up his beauty. His shoulders were broad, and his back was faced towards me, giving me the ultimate look. I wished desperately that the lab coat was off; I wanted a look at the ass that was hinted at under that damn coat.

At that moment, his blonde head turned—clipboard in hand— he caught my eye. I gasped audibly and any hope to stifle the ache between my legs was completely lost on me. No, I'd gladly ache for the rest of time if it meant I'd get to just _look_ at him.

His honey eyes were fringed with a light brown, almost black, and then he _smiled_ at me. My body shuttered violently and I bit my lip to the point of pain. We must have been staring at each other for minutes, but in my time it wasn't long enough, not by a long shot.

He had a straight nose, perfectly complementing his apple cheeks and a straight, hard jaw. I wanted to run my fingers over the curve, to touch each inch of his face with my hands and lips, just to feel him.

His lips, though…. I was fixated at the pillowy look of them. So plump and a pale pink that drew me in. I could imagine so many things with those lips… with the perfectly white teeth that were barely hidden behind them.

I smiled back weakly, but it was enough that his body lurched forward towards me. My eyes moved to his long sheathed legs, and I watched each steady step. He was in front of me then, less than a foot away. I was directly in front of his waist and I swallowed while my stomach dropped. Did he want…?

But then he sat down, a lithe quick movement that startled me a bit. He was beside me in the small plastic chair his face so close to mine. I swallowed hard.

"Hello," he murmured, his golden eyes darkening by the second. It drew me in all the more.

I had to think and then swallow before I could come up with anything coherent, "Hi,"

"I think you'd be happy to know that you're mother is fine." He smiled again, this time more inviting—more deliberate.

Oh yeah, my mom. I had forgotten completely about her. I felt guilty, but at the same time, I had a God like man in front of me, inviting me with his eyes and smile. This didn't happen often.

I had listened intently to every word he had spoken, and when he went back to my mom—I followed along closely behind him—he insisted that she was fine, but he'd like to have a short checkup with me. At this, my body was on overtime, thoughts that had never invaded my mind before hit me like a train.

Even more, was when he brought me to a small room in the back. I was more than nervous, and the little touches he gave me, leading with his hand on the small of my back, touching his fingers to mine, and putting his palms on my hips lead to something amazing.

Only amazing couldn't even describe it.

Grinding,

Panting,

Groaning,

Humping,

Breathless sounds,

And pleasure beyond compare.

It wasn't at all how I'd imagined my first time, but being with a doctor was something else all together. He did things that had me screaming out for more even though I was beyond exhausted.

His skillful hands touched so gently, but with an undeniable force, and even when I thought it would be over it wasn't. He continued on, breaking me and bending me to his amazing will.

When I left, he had given me his private number for emergency appointments. For the next week I was too sore to even think about calling again. My body was achy and in a decent pain.

My thighs were too sore to walk up or down stairs, my arms were stretched and tired so I couldn't write for any long amount of time and just thinking about it made me winded. I should have asked for a pass in gym.

But after a month, the nervousness and need built up to a staggering effect. I had dreams detailing each wonderful event. The words that were lost on me then, but so effective now, were my lullaby, and it was so incredible that I didn't even think before I tried to apply the same feeling.

And so at that point, the point where I would snap at everyone and everything that crossed my path, it was decided that I needed to see him again.

I faked an illness for two weeks before I made it seem like I gave in and called the hospital. My mom was already pretty sure something wasn't right when I left his office the first time. Apparently my face was red and I looked feverish.

It was a fever alright. _Jungle fever_.

But each day that grew closer to the appointment that I waited like an eager little kid on Christmas made my body grow hot and wanting. I could only imagine him again, touching, pounding and feeling me all over.

My eyes closed, breaking me from the thoughts of Doctor Carlisle Cullen. His name made my back arch just at the thought of it. A little pant left my throat and a surge of warmth hit the juncture of my legs. I could practically smell myself, so hot and ready for him.

The room was bigger this time, in a secured section of the hospital where no one would be able to hear the orgasmic sounds that left my throat when he fucked me like a wild animal.

I bit my lip to the point of drawing blood before I stopped, hearing a sound at the door.

The silver doorknob turned to the left before the white heavy door creaked open. My body stood straight up, my eyes clouding over before I saw a leather shoe step in. A quiet sigh left my throat. The last time I got my hopes up it was only a nurse.

Carlisle stepped in, his perfection glowing throughout the room. He was wearing his lab coat, stethoscope firmly around his broad shoulders, and his black shirt accenting his snow white skin. He was a gift from God to humanity.

His gold eyes met mine and he smiled, his hand dropping the clipboard that would be unnecessary for the rest of this appointment.

He slipped off the thin glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and loosened the white tie around his neck, unbuttoning his top two buttons. My stomach dropped. It was really going to happen. There was no catch, he wouldn't go off on a tangent and tell me this was wrong, that we couldn't do this and that his job would be jeopardized. I was suddenly inflated with happiness and confidence.

He _wanted_ me.

Maybe he wanted me as much as I wanted him…. No I seriously doubted that. But it didn't matter, he was still here, still willing.

"Dr. Cullen," I murmured, biting my lip.

He moved forward, only an arms length from my touch now, and put his hands on the crackly paper on either side of my hips. A little breathless sound left my throat and I swallowed hard. Just the sudden proximity drove my body wild with heat and liquid rushing.

"I hope this is an emergency," he murmured, his lips hovering over my shoulder now, slowly working their way up to my neck and then to my ear, completing the circuit over and over again—but never touching. "I'm a busy man you know."

"I know," my voice was breathless and I felt like I would start whining soon.

"Then what seems to be the problem?"

My legs split open immediately and Carlisle stepped forward. He hummed low in his chest, almost like a growl, before the tips of his cold fingers traced up my spine and to my neck. He gently swept my hair to the side and over my shoulder.

He guided his hands down my arms and then did the most amazing thing. He placed his hands on my thighs, his palms flat on the outside, and slowly pulled them open.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to help me understand." He whispered, his breath ghosting over my skin.

The room seemed too hot all of a sudden. I felt the insane need to touch him—to have him touch me. The icy texture of his skin massaged up and down my thighs, never coming near the aching, moist, warm, _burning_ juncture that was his.

He took my hand with his left one and gently moved it to my inner thigh. "Show me," his voice ordered. His lips pressed to the shell of my ear and he licked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

And because my horrible trembling was becoming a problem and since he told me to, I pushed my finger over my thigh and glided it to the aching and swollen clit that screamed for attention.

"Here," I breathed.

"Hmm… here…" he murmured, his lips tracing my jaw before he kneeled before me quickly.

He dropped onto his knees, his eyes directly centered on the sloppy dripping mess that was surely staining both the paper and table beneath me. He didn't say anything as I continued to stoke my clit, pushing my fingers down farther, and right when I was about to put them inside of me, just as I had practiced for him before, he gently grabbed my wrists and lifted my legs over his shoulders.

I gasped loudly, his face coming closer and closer to me. _Oh God yes_! How many times had I dreamed of him there?

"I can see your problem very clearly." He spoke directly into me, his voice sending light vibrations through me. "You're sopping wet with no release. How long has it been since you were last bent to my will?" My eyes snapped open and I looked down at him, a cocky smile was plastered over his face.

"Too long,"

With that he moved his face forward, his nose pushing into my clit and hit tongue delving into me with force. I screamed out, my fingers latching onto his hair and holding on for dear life. He pulsed his tongue and his finger alternated between rubbing my thighs and pumping into me.

My legs wrapped around his neck to pull him closer and suddenly he groaned loudly into me. The angle of his mouth and the way his tongue was buried so deep within me forced a tidal wave over me, and suddenly I could feel and hear myself releasing into his God-gifted mouth.

He started to kiss me where his mouth was, practically French kissing my soaked hole. Amazing. He was such an amazing man.

While I panted and whimpered with every pass that he lapped at me, he suddenly stood and was over me, looking down with darker eyes than before. I loved his eyes. The way they changed with his mood—well, I knew I was doing _something_ right, whereas everything he did was perfect.

"It's not enough," he breathed, his black eyes looking down at me. "More needs to be done. Stand." He ordered, still keeping up with his doctor charade.

I stood and then his hands were ripping at the flimsy paper gown. I stood completely naked in front of him. I was soaked still and utterly unsatisfied. I couldn't agree more; there was so much that needed to be done. I needed to get my fix of Carlisle.

His fingers went to his belt and undid the buckle before popping the button and tearing the zipper. Where I should have been afraid at the eager strength, I found it more endearing.

He dropped his pants, with nothing else underneath, and his eyes snapped to mine before glancing down. No orders or words needed to be said; this had been my wet dream for weeks.

I dropped onto my knees and leaned close to him, looking at the sheer perfection of his powerful weapon that could bring me to my knees in just a glance. To give him head was a complete honour. I would feel like a whore with anyone else, but Carlisle's complete show of respect and personality was something I'd searched so long for.

I kissed the head of his dick, letting the soft texture of it enrapture me. I poked my tongue out and licked him from base to tip before deciding to cut this short. If I didn't want to be teased and delayed, he probably wouldn't either.

My head sank down, only meeting him half way before I couldn't hold anymore. He gasped above me and his fingers slid into my hair, braiding them through and tugging at a quick pace. His hips bucked and I could feel his sweet taste in my mouth.

Small spurts of cum leaked and I swallowed it, the taste was like mint and cinnamon mixed with wild flowers that reminded me of fall. I could have sighed if I wasn't plugged with his dick.

His fingers squeezed harder at my hair and I winced before pushing him farther into my mouth. He suddenly let go of my hair and I heard him grunt my name before I slid my head back to his tip and pumped harder with my hands.

And then he came, beautifully and loudly into my mouth. His scream cut off quickly and suddenly I was up on my feet again.

"I need you now. No more waiting, no more playing." He growled at me, I swallowed, and tried to explain in my mind a quick excuse as to why he would _growl_ but the shutter that ripped through me was answer enough for him.

My back hit something cold and he slid into me quickly. He was freezing, but my body would warm him up. It was a beautiful thing. My back arched and I moved my head against whatever I was propped up against.

Lights beamed from behind me and I realized I was on a windowpane… above the doctor's parking lot.

"C-Carlisle,"

"That's right, baby." He hissed, his hips moving at an increasing speed.

"Ah! D—deeper!" His thrusts pushed into me deeper, his light pubic hair pushing roughly into my clit.

I could feel him buried so much deeper than his fingers or tongue. I was built for him, made to suit him in whatever way he wanted. I wanted to be bent to his will, to take every harsh thrust with a smile and tears of sheer pleasure.

I cried his name louder, moaning something that was even incoherent to my own ears. His passionate cries egged me on, pulling me into another realm. I wanted to please him, to be able to pull from him what he did for me.

So I clenched my muscles tighter, trying to hold my powerful and inevitable orgasm. The tightening of my inner muscles made his back tense and spasm beneath my finger tips.

I grabbed onto the stethoscope around his neck and pulled with all my force so his mouth was on mine. His tongue immediately dove in and ran over my molars and the roof of my mouth. His taste was all over me, enticing me to just let go and cum all over him, drip to the floor and have him force me again and again.

He moved wildly against me, his hips pushing roughly into mine, so much so that I could feel the bruises begin to form. He pulled back, his hooded eyes meeting mine and for the first time I was able to see Carlisle cum without the hazy vision of my own orgasm.

He was so perfect. His nose pulled back a little, his eyes closing briefly and his lips parted, sending his cool sweet breath over me. This all together spurred me into my own release, tearing me apart with wild shivers and loud piercing screams that broke through the hot silent room.

His name was a chant on my tongue, pushing me forward to spill all over him. I could hear the sounds of my cum seeping out onto him—still delivering his thrusts—and making the sweetest slapping sounds of skin on skin.

It was a sound I would imprint on my memory for the rest of time.

I stilled, my sweaty back pressed to the windowpane and my hair a mess around me. Carlisle pulled back and put me on the table, his hands running up and down my spine as his tongue twirled over my bellybutton.

"You know," he murmured, his fingers tracing down my thighs and playing with the soaked skin. "We have to make these weekly. But I don't intend for you to leave just yet. We are _far_ from done, and I don't intend to let you go home until you can no longer walk.

"Ah… Carlisle…"

"That's right…" his tongue moved down my thigh and then towards my clit. I jolted upright and he grinned. "I'm going to fuck you over and over again, and how will you feel?"

"Incredible." I breathed.

"You have no idea my dear."


End file.
